


I'm Here

by femmefatales



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmefatales/pseuds/femmefatales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of The Mystery Spot incident. Wincest. Slight angst, then lots of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Here

Dean still didn’t fully understand what Sam had gone through during the whole Mystery Spot ordeal. Each attempt to ask Sam to explain what had happened in better detail was either completely ignored or avoided, which did nothing but feed Dean’s curiosity. Dean didn’t press him further, however, because he knew more than anyone that some things are better off bottled up. 

That’s why, at two in the damn morning, Dean was awake and staring at the ceiling. 

The crappy motel ceiling fan spun ‘round and ‘round, blowing gust after gust of luke-warm air onto his face. Sam’s quiet breathing, which usually helped lull Dean to sleep (he’d rather die than admit it, though) was doing nothing for him tonight. His brain was filled with images of the purple bags that had been appearing under his little brother’s eyes for the past week or so. Curiosity wasn’t the only thing keeping Dean awake, however. Something was eating away at his brother and Dean’s chest ached because of it.

That was when, almost as if on queue, Sam let out a soft sigh from across the room. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he strained to hear better. 

All was silent for a few moments. Dean was about to return to his thoughts when he heard a quiet sob. Dean froze. Shit, he thought, feeling as if someone just shot a bullet straight through his chest. 

Dean clenched his fists as Sam’s almost inaudible cries continued. He sounded so completely helpless— Dean hadn’t heard him cry like that since they were kids. Should he say something? Dean knew that if he was in Sam’s situation he’d want to be left the hell alone. 

But when Sam shoved a pillow over his face to muffle his sobs, that was the final straw. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked, voice coming out much rougher than he’d intended. 

The crying came to an abrupt stop but Sam didn’t respond. 

“Don’t even try, I know you’re awake.” 

More silence. 

“Come on, man.”

“‘M fine. Sorry if I woke you,” Sam finally said in a hoarse voice. 

“Bullshit. You’re not fine,” Dean said. “And you didn’t wake me.”

“Yes, I am. Go back to sleep, Dean. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“The only thing that’s gonna bother me is the fact that you won’t tell me what the hell is wrong with you. You’re the one who always wants to talk about crap like this,” Dean said. ”Whatever’s on your mind, you can tell me about it.”

There was no response and Dean had to resist the urge to punch the wall. 

“Damnit, Sam—“

“Sorry,” Sam said, sounding so completely broken and pathetic that every ounce of frustration Dean had inside him melted away immediately. 

“’S’alright. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. Guess it’s just been driving me a little crazy, ya know?”

“Dean?” Sam asked after a moment, voice smaller than Dean had ever heard it.

“Yeah?”

“Can you..do you think you could come over here?”

Dean’s mind immediately flashed back to when they were kids. Whenever Sam would have a bad dream, he’d call Dean over to his bed and tell him about it while latching onto him like a leech. And Dean would listen, tell him that everything would be okay because his big brother would protect him. 

“I..uh. Yeah. I can.”

Dean got up, stretched, and walked a few feet over to Sam’s bed, ground cold on his bear feet. He knew what Sam wanted, didn’t even have to ask, so he crawled under the warm covers and wrapped a protective arm around his brother. Sam let out a shuddering sigh and leaned into the touch, warmth of his body bleeding into Dean’s. And at that moment, Dean realized that he didn’t give two shits about how weird this was. 

“S’okay, Sammy,” Dean muttered, absently tracing his finger in circles across Sam’s palm.

"Thanks," Sam said, voice soft.

"Don’t mention it."

~

The two of them stayed liked that for a while, completely wrapped up in each other. Dean was barely awake when Sam spoke again. 

"I keep thinking that I’ll wake up and you’ll die again."

So that was it. 

Dean wanted nothing more than to reassure Sam that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he’d always be around to watch out for his pain-in-the-ass little brother. But that would be complete bullshit, because he’d already sold his goddamn soul for the man in his arms.

So Dean just tightened his grip on Sam, trying to communicate to him that he was here, it’ll be alright. 

“Love you,” Sam whispered. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. 

"Love you too, little brother," Dean murmured. But Sam was already fast asleep.


End file.
